


far from the sun

by cabinfever



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/cabinfever
Summary: It’s maybe not his best idea. He’s the leader, yeah, or he’s supposed to be, but he doesn’t always have all the answers. Not the right ones, at least.But what matters is that it’s his idea. Not anyone else’s. Not the Lion’s. Not Haggar’s.His.“I need to fight again.”Keith looks up from the panel he’s adjusting on the Black Lion’s foot, blinks, and says, “Okay.”So the plan’s going great.(it does not go great.)





	far from the sun

It’s maybe not his best idea. He’s the leader, yeah, or he’s supposed to be, but he doesn’t always have all the answers. Not the right ones, at least.

But what matters is that it’s his idea. Not anyone else’s. Not the Black Lion’s. Not Haggar’s.

His.

“I need to fight again.”

Keith looks up from the panel he’s adjusting on the Black Lion’s foot, blinks, and says, “Okay.”

So the plan’s going great.

The two of them end up in the shade beneath the Black Lion. With how hot it is out here on this random moon’s surface, Shiro’s not eager to get out into the sun. Dust flies lazily around them, kicked up on the meager winds of this thin atmosphere. It’s nothing like the training room in the castle, but it’ll work. 

It has to work.

Shiro adjusts his stance, ready to spar, and realizes all at once that he’s trying to lift a hand he doesn’t have. He stops and stands up straight, hyper aware of how off balance he is. “Um.” He flexes his shoulder a bit, staring at the stump of his arm. “This might be a problem.”

“Here. Try with this.” Keith holds out the black bayard.

Shiro takes it, frowning down at it. “This isn’t mine.”

“Kinda is. Besides, I can use this.” He pulls his Marmora knife from the sheath where he always keeps it, and it grows into a full-sized sword in a flash of muted purple light.

“I’m not left handed,” Shiro warns, but he adjusts his grip on the bayard anyway.

Keith shrugs. “Neither am I.” He tosses his blade to the other hand, catching it in a reverse grip before flipping it to a battle-ready position. “Now we’re even.”

“I never knew you to be the type of person to purposely give themselves a disadvantage,” Shiro teases, dropping back into his battle stance.

With a grin, Keith flicks his hair out of his face. It falls back into his eyes anyway, casting dangerous shadows along the lines of his scar. From behind the dark curtain of it, his eyes gleam with something like mischief. “And I never knew you to be the type of person who’d tell me not to expand my horizons.”

“Fair point,” Shiro concedes. In his left hand, the bayard flickers, and then a dark blade extends from the hilt.

It’s familiar.

He tries not to think about it.

He twirls the bayard, listening to the savage unnatural sound of it cutting through the air, and brings it down in a slash towards Keith’s neck.

Keith parries it easily. It’s almost lazy, the way he does it. There’s a little waver in the way he readjusts, proof that he’s struggling with the left-handed grip as well. “Not bad,” he says, “but I know you can do better.”

“Oh, are you the coach now?”

“Black Paladin code, Shiro. It changed me. I can make horrible laser sounds now too.”

“Mine were the best, and you know it.” Shiro tries to take advantage of Keith’s distraction and darts in, swinging his sword low in a swipe at Keith’s legs.

Keith’s eyes light up, and he grins, blocking the blow with a quick flick of his blade. “Agree to disagree?”

“Thought you never backed down from a fight.”

A flash, and their blades are locked together again. Keith says, “You’re right,” and pushes hard against where they’re connected, sending Shiro off balance. While he’s reeling, Keith takes the opportunity to swing down with a yell. Shiro ducks out of the way instead of blocking, stumbling off to the side. He’s leaning too hard to his left, expecting to have the counterweight of his metal arm on the other side.

The bayard is uncomfortable in his left hand, but he doesn’t let that stop him. 

For a few minutes, Shiro forgets that they’re stranded halfway across the universe. The world narrows to this shadowed arena beneath their makeshift home, and the two of them learning to fight all over again. Shiro strikes, and Keith dances out of the way. If Shiro tries to circle around, Keith rolls out of the way, always keeping the two of them face to face. 

At one point, Keith swings at his right side, and his first instinct is to catch the blade with his hand, and he goes to ignite it-

Okay. No. Not there.

Improvise.

He leans to the side at the last second, watching the fatal violet arc of Keith’s blade whip through his vision. It leaves a trail of light shadows where it used to be, dizzying and glorious. The sword whistles through the spot where his arm used to be, just barely glancing off the armor on his hip on its way down. 

He catches Keith’s gaze as he rights himself again, baring his teeth in a grin. Keith matches it, eyes wide and lips parted in a breathless smile.

_ God,  _ he’s beautiful like this. Wild, in his natural state. Keith was made for a fight.

Shiro’s here to give him one.

Keith is quick. He’s always been spry, of course, and he’s slight enough that he’s never had to worry too much about building his body to that point, but Shiro knows what he’d been like before, and he can see all of the subtle changes. Keith doesn’t come charging in anymore, and he decides to take fewer punches, biding his time instead of muscling his way through the problem. That’s the work of the Blades, surely. Krolia and Kolivan must have reigned him in somehow.

He’s more elegant now, with his too-long hair falling into his face as he twirls out of the way of one of Shiro’s strikes. His swordsmanship isn’t nearly as good when he’s fighting one-handed, but there’s enough finesse in the rest of his movements that he nearly pulls it off.

Speed doesn’t matter once Shiro’s able to get in close. He might only have one arm, but he’s still stronger and heavier than Keith in any situation. He kicks at Keith’s ankle at the same time as he elbows him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Keith lets out a small  _ oof  _ of surprise, falling onto his back.

Shiro’s on him in a heartbeat, slamming one knee into the dirt beside Keith’s torso and planting one on the center of his chest, holding him down with the sheer force of his weight. He’s got Keith pinned.

Keith’s chest heaves beneath him; his lips are parted to let his breaths pass through in soft bursts. From beneath the dark curtain of his hair, his eyes gleam bright violet. 

He’s beautiful.

He’s vulnerable.

It would be so easy to just-

He clenches a fist he doesn’t have, settling for the bayard in his left hand instead. It shrinks, flickering into a more manageable knife even as he brings it closer, closer, heading towards Keith’s bared neck.

It would be so easy.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes, and there’s such desperation in there that Shiro almost laughs. Of course the Red Paladin would beg. So weak. So scared. So devoted to his friend.

Wait.

Keith. Keith. That’s Keith.

He comes back to himself in slow motion, all at once aware of the fact that he’s holding the black bayard to Keith’s neck, inches from slashing it across his throat.

This body wants to fight. This body wants to kill.

It wants to kill Keith.

“Keith!” he cries, and he scrambles backwards off of Keith’s body.

Keith gets up on his elbows, reaching after him. “Shiro, wait!” he begs.

“Get back!” he snarls, and he jerks himself away before he can do something he regrets. He drops the bayard, though his fingers itch to chase after it, and backs up against one of the Lion’s legs. 

“Shiro-”

“Keith!” he warns, and his voice goes rough with his fear. “Don’t. Don’t come any closer.”

Keith doesn’t listen. He never does. He scrambles to his feet and takes a step forward. “Shiro.”

“I can’t,” he gasps. “I can’t do it. It’s too familiar.” 

“Hey.” Keith puts his hands out in surrender, letting his blade shrink back to its dagger form before sheathing it completely. On the ground, the bayard shimmers before slipping out of existence as well. Keith’s getting rid of all of the threats.

What’ll he do with Shiro?

“Hey,” Keith says again, and he drops to his knees beside Shiro. “Hey, you still with me?”

Shiro slides down the Lion’s smooth leg, coming to rest in the dust. “Muscle memory,” he mutters, and he shakes his head. “Keep the bayard away from me, Keith. I don’t want that near me if that’s what I want to do to you when I have it.”

“Okay,” Keith agrees immediately, quietly, calmly, like he didn’t just have a knife to his throat. 

Curled up in the shadow of the Black Lion, nobody else can see them. Shiro’s glad for that. How is he supposed to be a leader if he can’t stop trying to hurt his team?

Keith carefully reaches out to Shiro. Shiro almost shies away, but Keith could never hurt him. Even when he should’ve, Keith had only ever pacified him. He lets Keith rest his fingers on his shoulder, and then raise them to his cheek, and then the top of his head.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Keith mutters, carding through Shiro’s hair with his fingers. Shiro leans into the touch. “This was my fault.”

“No, Keith,” Shiro insists. “It wasn’t you. You were the one that saved me.”

“Allura-”

“Allura only was able to help once she knew I was in there. Only you connected with the Black Lion enough to get through to me.”

“Not like they’re going to have any better chance of connecting to me now,” Shiro mutters, and the dark mass of guilt and self-hatred rises up in the center of his chest to speak for him. “None of them trust me.”

“That’s not true.”

Shiro frowns. “You know it is.” He’s seen the way they look at him, though he’s sure they don’t realize they’re doing it. He doesn’t blame them, really. He’d probably be wary too if one of his team members went AWOL and came back wrong. “It was just like our fight. Or- your fight with him, I guess.” Shiro bows his head. “Being in that position, keeping you powerless...it was too familiar. I’m sorry, Keith.”

“Hey. Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

Shiro raises his hand to trace the dark scar crossing half of Keith’s face. “So what’s this?” he asks with a mirthless smile.

Keith places his hand over Shiro’s, holding it to the smooth skin of the scar. “Not your fault,” he repeats.

“You keep saying that,” Shiro says.

“And I’m gonna keep saying it,” Keith tells him, “as many times as it takes.” He tilts his head to the side, smiling at Shiro. “I think you need to stop thinking about it.”

Shiro rubs his thumb along the line of Keith’s scar, marveling at the way it makes Keith shudder and let out a soft breath. His supernova-dark eyes slip shut, and his long lashes cast shadows against his cheekbones. “What did you have in mind?” Shiro asks, admiring Keith’s feral beauty. 

Instead of replying, Keith moves forward, tapping insistently at Shiro’s knees until they’re lowered enough for him to clamber into his lap. “Is it better like this?” he asks, sitting back on Shiro’s thighs. “See? You’re not hurting me. You’re not overpowering me.” He moves a little bit, settling down in Shiro’s grasp. “I’m feeling safe; I dunno about you.”

It’s nice to look up and see Keith’s face, smiling softly down at him. It’s rare nowadays to see him this relaxed; he knows for a fact that he’d rarely made that face when the  _ other  _ one had been around. All the better, then; the clone didn’t deserve to see him like that. Shiro’s just happy to see Keith let some of the tension bleed out of him for once, and if Shiro’s part of the reason, he’d gladly stay by Keith’s side for ages to keep him smiling like that.

Surely Keith knows the effect that he’s having. He must know. 

“When did you get so...” Shiro trails off helplessly, trailing his fingers along the seam of Keith’s lips. “I don’t know. You know what I mean.”

“I spent two years in quantum space,” Keith deadpans, but he smiles anyway, pushing Shiro’s fingers upwards with the force of his amusement. 

“That must be it.” Shiro moves his finger up to poke at the tip of Keith’s nose.

Keith scrunches up his face, half-smiling and crossing his eyes to stare at Shiro’s finger. “You’re gonna make me sneeze,” he mumbles, and he grabs Shiro’s wrist, kissing at the tips of his fingers. Still holding onto his hand, he leans in and kisses Shiro on the lips at last, sliding his other hand back into Shiro’s hair. His fingers tighten in the strands at the top of Shiro’s head, and Shiro whines, leaning up into him. Keith smiles against his lips and moves his grasp to the back of Shiro’s neck, holding him tightly.

The kiss is so much better than he remembers. Keith’s lips are soft, and though he tastes of salt and sweat and interstellar dust, Shiro wouldn’t trade it for the world. Keith’s always been vocal, and he makes soft little noises into Shiro’s mouth that have his mind reeling.

God, it’s been so long since the two of them were alone like this. How long before the fight with Zarkon was it? 

How many times did Haggar’s puppet kiss Keith?

He growls low in the back of his throat, holding Keith tightly by the waist. He’s going to make this up to Keith.  

In heat like this, they end up getting lazy, trading open-mouthed kisses in the shade of the Black Lion. Shiro ends up marking a line down Keith’s jaw, moving down his neck until he hits the collar of the uniform. God, he needs to get him out of this uniform. He settles for sucking a mark into a spot just below Keith’s jaw, knowing that unless Keith’s wearing a helmet, anyone can see it. Let them. He’d usually never be so bold, but having Keith back in his arms is incentive enough. 

On the tail end of a sigh, Keith makes a contemplative noise. “Without the arm, you’re off balance. You’re gonna need something to counterbalance you,” Keith says, idly combing through Shiro’s hair. “Maybe Hunk and Pidge can help. It doesn’t even have to be functional. Just a weight would work.”

Shiro snorts and presses his face into Keith’s chest. “I don’t think we have enough supplies to even think of making anything functional.”

“You underestimate Hunk.”

“I believe in him,” Shiro insists. “I do.”

Keith turns in Shiro’s lap, squinting off into the distance. He pushes his hair out of his face with one hand. “When’re the others coming back?” he asks.

“Later. There were rumors that there might be a member of the Coalition stationed out here. Pidge has her tracker out and they’re searching for them.”

“Hm.” Keith looks back at Shiro. “Wanna go inside? We’ll save the sparring for later, okay?”

Shiro leans his head back against the steel of the Black Lion’s leg. “I’m so comfortable here,” he sighs. He’s really not. It’s more the fact that Keith is here than any particular property of his uniform or the hard rock beneath him.

“If you think I’m about to do this on the ground of this moon, you’ve gone insane,” Keith tells him. He levers himself out of Shiro’s lap and holds out his hand. “Come on. It’s roomy in the Black Lion.”

Shiro pushes his hair out of his face, grinning up at Keith. Silhouetted in the sunlight like this, he really does look like a true paladin. It makes Shiro’s heart race with something more than pride. Keith is enough of a warrior for both of them, maybe. 

He takes Keith’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [earthspaladins!](http://www.earthspaladins.tumblr.com)


End file.
